I spent my childhood in a Hindu-majority neighbourhood in a suburb. Both Hindus and Muslims there had influential, wealthy families. Localities carried the names of Vedic deities, and even mosques were named with reference to them, like Madhabpur Jame Mosque or Kaliganj Jame Mosque. None of this ever bothered the faith of local Muslims.
Alongside, I saw hatred nurtured silently. In kindergarten, many of my Hindu classmates were shunned. Not many people wanted to sit beside them. When asked why, the answer was simple and chilling: “Because they are Hindu.” At the age of six or seven, children had already learned to hate -- I guess we all know from where they learned that.
My grandfather has always been a devout and noble Muslim, so dignified that respect for him comes naturally. His closest lifelong friend was a Hindu gentleman, whose home was like my grandfather’s own. My grandfather often slept in the prayer room of his house while visiting. While most of that person's relatives eventually migrated for safety to neighbouring countries, his family stayed. Whenever he was asked, “Why aren’t you going anywhere else?” He always answered, “Because that country is not my own.”
From my grandfather I often heard stories of “riots.” In those stories, he often mentioned how his beloved teacher was mourning like a half-dead man while fleeing the country to save himself from mob attacks. My grandfather also told me a story of how an oppressive Hindu zamindar was killed during a riot in his district along with a 13-year-old boy who was my grandfather’s classmate, who was stabbed to death with a fishing spear. When my devout grandfather recalls these memories with tearful eyes, in those moments he is not only a Muslim; he is simply human.
My ancestral village is famous across the subcontinent for a particular ashram that hosts annual fairs during a special puja. For us children, these fairs were like festivals. This festival also coincided with the private festival-like event, when married daughters of my village returned to their father’s home from their in-laws to enjoy this fair. Although the conservatives still whined and disapproved of this festival being forbidden for Muslims, our joy and participation were always greater in number than theirs. My grandfather would take us to the fair, and while returning he would stop for his evening prayers at the mosque.
Today, every time Durga Puja arrives, we hear of idols either being vandalized or being threatened to be vandalized. I often wonder, what purpose does this serve? Is it some divine merit? Or is it nothing more than the cultivation of hatred and the arrogance of belief?
In explanation, the former government had always given explanations that mentally-disturbed people were responsible. Now, the new administration is giving some other narratives. For most people, these explanations do not sound justifiable. However, some satisfied and happy people are also here, cheering such vandalism.
The justification often given by them is that Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) once destroyed idols inside the Kaaba, yet with no context that these idols were forcefully placed inside the Kaaba, an Abrahamic sanctuary considered holy by Abrahamic faiths. In the Abrahamic practice of faith, idol worshipping was always prohibited. Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) did not storm into different faiths’ places of worship to desecrate them. He protected what was for his people.
Then he preached peace for everyone, regardless of their faiths. He preached about respectful coexistence. Many, as his followers, have failed to carry his teachings in our lives.
If faith breeds unrest and arrogance, then we are not practicing or preaching religion. We are only feeding our pride to feel superior. It was for arrogance that Iblis was cast out of heaven.
I spent my childhood in a Hindu-majority neighbourhood in a suburb. Both Hindus and Muslims there had influential, wealthy families. Localities carried the names of Vedic deities, and even mosques were named with reference to them, like Madhabpur Jame Mosque or Kaliganj Jame Mosque. None of this ever bothered the faith of local Muslims.
Alongside, I saw hatred nurtured silently. In kindergarten, many of my Hindu classmates were shunned. Not many people wanted to sit beside them. When asked why, the answer was simple and chilling: “Because they are Hindu.” At the age of six or seven, children had already learned to hate -- I guess we all know from where they learned that.
My grandfather has always been a devout and noble Muslim, so dignified that respect for him comes naturally. His closest lifelong friend was a Hindu gentleman, whose home was like my grandfather’s own. My grandfather often slept in the prayer room of his house while visiting. While most of that person's relatives eventually migrated for safety to neighbouring countries, his family stayed. Whenever he was asked, “Why aren’t you going anywhere else?” He always answered, “Because that country is not my own.”
From my grandfather I often heard stories of “riots.” In those stories, he often mentioned how his beloved teacher was mourning like a half-dead man while fleeing the country to save himself from mob attacks. My grandfather also told me a story of how an oppressive Hindu zamindar was killed during a riot in his district along with a 13-year-old boy who was my grandfather’s classmate, who was stabbed to death with a fishing spear. When my devout grandfather recalls these memories with tearful eyes, in those moments he is not only a Muslim; he is simply human.
My ancestral village is famous across the subcontinent for a particular ashram that hosts annual fairs during a special puja. For us children, these fairs were like festivals. This festival also coincided with the private festival-like event, when married daughters of my village returned to their father’s home from their in-laws to enjoy this fair. Although the conservatives still whined and disapproved of this festival being forbidden for Muslims, our joy and participation were always greater in number than theirs. My grandfather would take us to the fair, and while returning he would stop for his evening prayers at the mosque.
Today, every time Durga Puja arrives, we hear of idols either being vandalized or being threatened to be vandalized. I often wonder, what purpose does this serve? Is it some divine merit? Or is it nothing more than the cultivation of hatred and the arrogance of belief?
In explanation, the former government had always given explanations that mentally-disturbed people were responsible. Now, the new administration is giving some other narratives. For most people, these explanations do not sound justifiable. However, some satisfied and happy people are also here, cheering such vandalism.
The justification often given by them is that Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) once destroyed idols inside the Kaaba, yet with no context that these idols were forcefully placed inside the Kaaba, an Abrahamic sanctuary considered holy by Abrahamic faiths. In the Abrahamic practice of faith, idol worshipping was always prohibited. Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) did not storm into different faiths’ places of worship to desecrate them. He protected what was for his people.
Then he preached peace for everyone, regardless of their faiths. He preached about respectful coexistence. Many, as his followers, have failed to carry his teachings in our lives.
